


Home

by ThunderHawk727



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ghost (ASoIAF) is a Good Boy, Jon snow comes home, Parent Jon Snow, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Single Parent Sansa, Stark child - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-10-12 08:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderHawk727/pseuds/ThunderHawk727
Summary: Ten years after the Burning of King's Landing, Sansa is Queen in the North, and eight years ago Jon disappeared beyond the wall. Leaving her alone with their son. Jon Snow finally comes home.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second fic, please be gentle with me. But constructive criticism is welcomed. So I got the suggestion from a reader to expand on the reasons why Jon left and to have his dumb ass explain himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to follow me on Tumblr my blog is...you guessed it thunderhawk727. Constructive Criticism welcomed, just don't be rude.

Sansa rose from her bed at dawn, as she did daily. Splashing her face in the basin of icy water next to her bed, she looked in her mirror. Silver edged her auburn tresses, crows feet graced her face, but she remained as beautiful as she ever had been. Ten years had passed since the day she took her crown. A young chamber maid entered her room and curtsied, 

“Good mornin’ Your Grace.” 

“Good morning Jaseline.”  
The two of them moved with practiced ease, the girl helping her Queen into a simple gown. Much like the ones her mother wore as Lady Stark. A deep gray dress, cinched tightly at her still slim waist, with dark brown fur at the ends of the sleeves, and fur at the collar. Intricate embroidery of direwolves intertwined with leaping trouts wove its way down her chest. Jaseline pulled her auburn hair half up, into a braided bun that resembled a rose, with the rest hanging in soft curls nearly to her waist.  
Reaching toward a box of her jewelry, she hesitated. Something had her reaching for a necklace she had not worn in many years. A simple chain, with a running wolf pendant. Jon had given it to her before his exile in the North. She had seen him a handful of times since that day. Her skin still burned with the memory of his touch. Calloused hands on her soft skin, his lips on hers, the scent of his skin, the thought of him made her heart ache. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to breathe. It had been seven years since he had last graced the halls of Winterfell. Who now knew where the King Beyond the Wall had gone? Tears threatened to form, but for the sake of her people, and her son, she had to be strong. Laughter echoed in the hall outside her chambers, she knew that laugh better than anyone. The door to her chamber burst open and a little boy came racing to her. Opening her arms, she felt little Robb crash into her. Looking down at the mop of raven curls and Tully blue eyes staring up at her, she smiled. 

“Hello sweetling. Have you eaten yet?” 

“No mama, I wanted to see you first.” 

Sansa smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Taking him by the hand she said 

“Well, come then little wolf. Let’s break our fast together.”  
He took off down the hall, at breakneck speed. Sansa followed behind, eyes full of love. She sat at the table at the end of the hall, her breakfast simple. Honeyed bread, hot tea, and a few eggs. The warmth of the tea seeped into her icy hands. Robb ate quickly and dashed off before she could say a word.  
“Your grace, a raven from King Bran.” said Maester Rickar, the young maester was new to Winterfell. He bowed low before handing her the letter. Inside were three words, words she had never expected to see. 

Jon is coming. 

Her eyes went wide, and she nearly dropped her tea. Scraping her chair over the stone floor of the hall she quickly beckoned Jaseline to her. 

“Your grace? Is everythin’ alright?” the girl questioned, brown eyes full of worry. 

“We will have guests this evening. Please make sure the guest house is readied for them. Please ensure the best chambers are prepared for a guest of honor.”

Jaseline curtsied and hurried off to the guest house to begin her work. Calling a few of the younger girls to help her. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sansa made her way to the training yard. Robb was practicing with Ser Mykal Grenwood. The master at arms for Winterfell trained her son with care, teaching without hurting the boy. Worry creased her brow as she watched him. How would Jon react to seeing his son? She had not told him of the boy, none of the ravens she sent reached him beyond the wall. In a whirl of grey skirts, she turned and made her way to the godswood.  
Sitting under the great weirwood tree, with its blood red leaves, she felt at peace. Perched on one of the thick roots, she stared into the hot pool by the tree. The steam ghosting its way into the icy air mesmerized her, and she did not notice the passing of time. Hours went by, as she let herself remember Jon. Snow crunching underfoot shook her out of her trance. Looking up she saw Ghost. Bigger than she remembered, red eyes seeming to glow. The sun had risen high and he seemed to be a dream. As if he would vanish into thin air if she dared to even breathe. Trotting up to her, he pushed his head into her chest, bushy tail wagging slowly back and forth. Sinking her hands into his thick fur, she leaned into the direwolf. Tears fell down her cheeks as she buried her face into his fur. A hand on her shoulder caused her to start; looking up grey eyes met hers. Time seemed to stop as she took him in. Curls she ached to run her hands through were unkempt and long, struck through with strands of silver. His beard was longer than she remembered it ever being struck through with the same silver as his curls. A few more scars decorate his handsome face, and he looks tired. Slowly standing she took a step back, putting an arms length between them. The air between them is near crackling with energy. Hurt crossed his face, followed by understanding. Ghost stood off to the side, the one remaining ear pitched toward them, watching intently. A few more moments of silence before he cleared his throat and said 

“Your grace.” 

“Sansa, always Sansa to you.” she whispered, before launching herself into his arms. Much like the day she found him at Castle Black. Nuzzling her nose into his neck, she let out a laugh. Inhaling his scent, leather, wolf, and icy winds. In his arms again she felt safe.


	2. Chapter Two

Jon held her tightly, finally home. The scent of lemons and snow clung to her, as it always had. Lifting her off the ground he squeezed her tightly. Burying his face in her hair. Throat burning he put her down, but made no move to let her go. Leaving her again is something he will not do. 

“Jon?” she said, her voice timid, full of unasked questions, and he had no answers. Pulling back from her, reluctantly, he looked her in the eyes and said, 

“I made a mistake, leaving you. Not telling you where I was going, giving you no answers. Sansa, I spent every day thinking of you. I have no excuse for what I did.”

Tully blue eyes are unreadable as she listened to his words, and he had no idea if she will ever forgive him. She shouldn’t. Not after what he did, not after leaving her alone. Word had reached him in the Lands of Always Winter as he hunted down ice spiders, and the last remnants of the Others, he had a son. Honor meant everything to him and he had abandoned his family. Again.  
Icy fingers touched his cheek, and he savored the feel of her soft hands. Staring down at her, he saw the ghost of a smile touch her lips. Then she pulled him in for a soft kiss, one that tasted like honey. Pulling her closer he slowly deepened the kiss, groaning as he tasted her again. Not wanting to believe that she let him. 

“Mama!” called a little boy. Jon let go of her, and watched a child race across the snow. It seemed as if the world stopped moving, his son. His son. That little boy with black curls and blue eyes was his. 

“Mama who is he?” questioned the child, clinging to his mother’s skirts. Watching him reproachfully. Sansa knelt in the snow and asked

“Robb, do you remember what I told you about your papa?”

“Yes mama. Papa is a good man, and that he went North to help the Free Folk. You said you didn’t know when he would come home.”

“Very good sweetling. Robb, this is your papa. He’s come home. To us.”

Robb went still, eyes widening as he looked at Jon. As Sansa stood, Jon knelt. Eye level with his little boy. Waiting, letting the boy come to him, even if all he wanted was to wrap his arms around his son. Slowly the boy crept toward him, and Jon reached out a hand. In an instant he had a pair of little arms wrapped around his neck and the son he had always wanted in his arms. 

“Papa! Papa! Papa!” Robb chanted as he buried his face in Jon’s chest. Finally, Jon let loose the tears that had threatened to fall since he has sighted Winterfell’s tall towers and direwolf banners. He was home, and he would never leave again.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was informed that I left the story a bit ambiguous, I thought I would clear it up. There are a few more chapters I am working on and I'll update as I can. I am having issues writing the next chapter cause there's smut involved and I am STUCK. Sorry but I'm trying my best.

Following Sansa back to the Great Hall, he could feel the eyes of every servant in the castle following him. Robb had refused to be put down, clinging to him as if he would disappear the second Jon put him down. At a loss for words, Jon couldn’t bring himself to tell her why he left. How could explain to the woman he had loved since he was a boy, that he left to protect her? Knowing the wrath of the Unsullied would reach the North if he had stayed, no matter how much she begged him to stay. How could he tell her that he had lain awake night after night with an ache in his chest he could never ease? Sitting at the head of the table with Sansa for their midday meal, he finally let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Ghost settled at his feet, his massive head laid across Jon’s boots, as if he knew Jon needed him close.  
Picking at his meal he felt his stomach churning with nerves. There was so much he needed to say, so much he had to tell her. Pushing his plate away Jon stood, and asked her 

“Sansa can we speak alone? Please?”

She nodded and sent Robb off to Maester Rickar for his lessons, silencing the boy’s protests with a single raised eyebrow. He sulked away, but Jon called after him, 

“Robb, if you behave for Maester Rickar, I have a gift for you.” the boy smiled and darted down the hall. Sansa shook her head at him and said 

“Spoiling him already Jon?”

“I have a lot to make up for, to both him and to you.”

“That you do.” she replied coolly. 

Inwardly wincing at her tone, Jon nodded, then followed her to her solar. A desk sat to the right, covered in stacks of parchment, while a pair of comfortable chairs sat in front of a roaring fire. She sat first, then he followed. 

“What is it you wanted to talk about Jon?”

Taking a deep breath, he felt Ghost lean against his legs, steadying him. Looking her straight in the eye he said, 

“I owe you an explanation for what I did. I never should’ve left you here alone. What I did was a mistake and I spent every day of the last eight years agonizing over it, but I thought I had done the right thing. I feared for your safety with me around, the Unsullied made it clear they would attack if I was set free. I felt as if I had no choice but to leave to keep you safe.” 

The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly when he got the first few out and then they poured out of him. A dam had been broken and Jon had no control over himself in that moment, 

“I spent those days in the North aching for you, convincing myself that staying away would keep you safer. I thought I was keeping you safe. Tormund finally had enough of me, telling me to leave. To go home.”

Sansa said nothing, and Jon felt his heart breaking. Putting his head in his hands, he clutched at his hair before continuing. 

“I don’t expect your forgiveness, and I don’t deserve it. I only want to fix what I’ve broken. Sansa, I did this to us. Now Robb doesn’t know his father. That is my fault, my burden. I came home because I couldn’t face another day without you. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I can’t live another day without you.” 

His voice was hoarse with unshed tears, grey eyes full of hurt and trepidation. Fully expecting her to lash out at him, and he would take everything she threw at him. Shoulders shaking with the torrent of emotion rushing through him, Jon finally looked up at her from his boots. The icy mask that he had seen when he first began speaking was gone, in its place horrified understanding. Her hand was on her mouth, and when she finally spoke, her voice broke. 

“You stayed away to keep me safe? We needed time to heal, all of us. You, me, and the North. Had the Unsullied attacked, we never would have survived. You left to protect us all. You stayed away, for all of us.” her voice was a whisper, as if she did not believe the words she spoke. 

“No, I stayed away to protect you. You are everything to me Sansa, the reason I still draw breath, and the reason I would fight the dead again and again. I would protect you and our son until death takes me.” his words were laced in steel, and wrapped in truth. The conviction in his own voice, gave him pause. Fire burned in his gut, and he knew what sparked it. Her, it had always been her.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally my first ever attempt to write smut, please be gentle. All the same, constructive criticism is welcome.

When he asked to speak to her alone, Sansa had no clue what he was planned on saying to her. After the godswood, she had felt her anger growing, he had abandoned her. Again. She narrowed her eyes at Ghost who was hovering so close to Jon she was worried he would trip. Sitting in her favorite armchair, she folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to speak. It took him an agonizing few moments. The words seemed to be stuck in his throat, and he choked on them a time or two before he began in earnest. The words he spoke made her think of the past. How weak the North was after the Great War and then helping Daenerys Targaryen with her mad quest to take the Iron Throne. Had the Unsullied attack the North would never have survived. He sacrificed everything he had ever wanted to keep her safe. He spoke again, in that deep voice she loved more than anything. 

“Sansa, do you remember what I told you before we fought Ramsey?”

She gave him a confused look, not remembering the conversation in its entirety. 

“I told you I would protect you. I meant it. Now and always. Do I have your permission to try again? Do I have permission to mend the things I have broken?” 

It took her a few moments to reply but when she did, 

“Jon, stay.” 

Those two words undid the warrior in front of her. Sliding out of his arm chair he sunk to his knees before her. 

“Your grace, my sword, my heart, and my life are yours. From this day to my last day.” The gravity of those last words was not lost upon her. The words were the same as he would say beneath a weirwood tree if he was to take a wife. Taking his hand within hers Sansa replied 

“You have my heart, and my life Jon. From this day to my last day.” 

She pulled him forward. Their lips locked, tasting each other once again. He let out a low rumbling growl as he explored her mouth with his tongue. Her knees felt weak almost giving way. He guided his mouth across her face, to her jaw then to her ear. His stubble, rough against her skin only added to her excitement. She felt a building warmth from her loins. He took her from her chair, his grasp being a type of reassurance that he was to be trusted. He pressed her against the wall. His hands holding her waist gently. He leaned in slowly. Her mouth moved against his, greedy and wanting more. She broke his grip and grasped at those wild curls she had so missed, tugging on them. It was many years, but her memory of his enjoyment compelled her. He stepped backward, his chest heaving.  
He stared at her for a short time, before moving his eyes to the ground at her feet, then back to her.   
"Sansa, Is this what you want? Do you truly want this?"   
She looked away and offered an innocent smile. Placing one hand on his cheek, her smile turned wicked. She grabbed him by his tunic and forcefully pulled him toward her. What ever barriers had prevented his lust from rising were no more. Both of them pulled at laces, from both her dress, and those on his leather jerkin. Her dress pooled at her feet, while his jerkin was tossed aside. This mad and wild act to uncover themselves was clumsy and filled with a rising lust. Pulling his face down to hers yet again, he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth firmly. Gods, she had missed his touch, it never failed to set her on fire. Tugging at his tunic she pulled it over his head. The scars there had faded a bit with time, but they were still jagged and rough. Tracing her fingers over those jagged lines, she could feel him shudder.   
He cupped her breast in one hand, gentle as he had ever been with her. As his mouth moved farther south, he left a trail of fire. She felt his heat disappear from her for a brief moment, before he had his mouth between her legs. Her hands settled into his dark curls, gripping them tightly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took so long for me to finish. I haven't really had the time of the energy to finish this. Work absolutely consumed me.

On his knees, he slowly moved downward, each kiss more provocative than the last. Pulling at her waist, he drew her closer. Gently he kissed up her soft thighs. She felt the warmth of his breath as a crashing wave against her tender skin. She started to pull away as she felt the moisture of his mouth against her most delicate of areas. But as with any wave, there was an inevitable crash. His fingers became that ship crashing through the waves and toward her harbor.   
She let loose a low moan and grasped tightly on the back of his head, not letting loose his hair. Her voice raised to a louder, sharper pitch. Her stomach filled with spasms until she stood in repose. Jon looked upward to meet her gaze. Sofft hands open with welcome, wanting to pull him upward. RIsing from the stone floor, his eyes never left hers, and as he stood their lips met once again. Sansa gave him another look, full of mischief. A bemused grin made his lips twitch as she pushed him against the desk. Her hands wildly pulled away the drawstrings of his trousers. Without care, their actions became feverish, an animalistic lust. He worked his boots and trousers off, and kicked them away with careless abandon. Heedless of where they landed, they could burn for all she cared.   
She knelt before him. Her warm breath was accompanied by a surge of moisture. His eyes widened and his arms buckled. Her papers were knocked to the floor and with a few motions, she drew from him a deep labored breath before the inevitable moan. Watching her for a moment as his pleasure grew before lifting her upward. Uncaring of the mess he made, Jon pushed all her neatly stacked paperwork to the floor. Tully blue eyes met his again. He grabbed her by her bottom and quickly spun her around. Her legs, now agape, felt him. A slow motion let in the best of pressures inside her. She could feel every single motion of him. She grabbed him by the waist. Her desire was to have him, all of him, in her. Without a word, he understood that she wanted his motions longer, harder. 

Underneath him, Sansa reached to run her fingernails across his chest, before rolling her hips against him. 

“Faster Jon, please.” she begged and he obliged. Picking up the tempo, it was not long before he was pounding into her. Fingernails raked down his back and chest, leaving trails of fire. 

“Sansa.” he moaned, nearly mad with lust, so close to his own peak. Her walls tightened around him as she came undone again, and he spasmed against her. The pleasure ripping a groan from him, as he spilled inside her. It took him a few moments to gather his wits, he pulled away from her, and helped her to her feet. Sheepishly he handed her his shirt, and she cleaned herself before giving him another quick kiss. 

“If you ever leave me again Jon Stark, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”

“Yes your grace.” he retorted quickly, with a lazy grin. Before pulling her into his arms, just holding her close. Until she pulled away, and arched an eyebrow. 

“You promised your son a gift, he will never forget until you give it to him. I suggest you find him.”

“There’s a gift for you too Sansa. Can you meet me at the stables in an hour?” he asked 

“I suppose I can. I’ll need to change, you seem to have tousled my appearance love.”

Grinning sheepishly, he quickly clothed himself and helped her into her dress. Slipping out of the study, he made his way to the Maester’s Tower. Finding his son with the young Maester he watched the little boy for a few moments. Reminding him of his namesake, Robb fidgeted in his chair, not staying still for more than a few seconds before having to move. Moving into the room, he cleared his throat and made himself known. 

“Papa!” called Robb bounding from his chair, and into Jon’s arms in the space of a breath. Chuckling, Jon picked up the boy, and asked 

“Might I steal the young prince for the afternoon? I have a gift for both him and his mother. It would be bad manners to keep the both of them waiting.”

Maester Rickar smiled politely and nodded, giving his assent to let the young prince be spirited away by his father. Jon put the boy down and held his hand as they descended the stairs into the courtyard. Ghost was waiting for them, he had somehow slipped out of the study earlier. Robb gave a squeak of surprise. Robb approached Ghost carefully with one hand extended, as if he knew to let Ghost catch his scent first. The direwolf nuzzled him carefully, being the size of a pony he could easily have hurt the boy. 

“Papa, I think he likes me!” 

“Aye, I suspect he does. You are a Stark after all.”

“Where are we going papa?” 

Smiling, Jon ruffled the snow out of the boy’s hair before answering. 

“You, me, and your mother are going on a ride to the Wolfswood. There’s a present for both of you.”

Behind him Ghost pushed into his back, nearly driving him to the ground. 

“Aye, go on.” Jon said gruffly. The direwolf took off out of the gates as fast as he could. Nearly knocking over a stable boy in the process. A white pony was saddled and ready for Robb, while Jon’s own black horse had been given a thorough rub down when he had arrived. A bay mare was being saddled for Sansa, and he went to help the stable hand. Something about the man’s face seemed familiar, but he had no clue what. 

“White Wolf?” the man questioned, nerves making his voice shake a bit.

“Aye, how can I help you friend?” Jon replied smoothly. 

“I don’t know if you remember me, but I fought here. During the Great War. I was one of Lady Lyanna Mormont’s men.”

“Dallin Meadows?” Jon asked incredulously, the man had been half skewered by a sword the last time Jon had seen him. 

“Aye my lord! The maester wasn’t sure I would make it through the night.”

“I’m glad you’re alright. How did you end up in Winterfell? I thought you would’ve gone home.”

“Too injured to leave, and I couldn’t leave the Queen. Not after she helped me and gave my wife and I positions here. I’m grateful to her grace.”

Jon smiled and put a hand on the man’s shoulder, before saying 

“I for one, am glad you stayed. She needed strong, loyal Northmen here after I left.”

“The North is happy you’ve come home my lord.” Dallin left him holding the reins of Sansa’s pretty mare by himself. The horse shook her head, and Jon gave her a rub on the forehead. Leading the mare to the other horses, Jon shook his head at his son, who was having a bit of trouble keeping the white pony still. 

“Snow! Please stop prancing about! I’m trying to show father that I can ride!”

“Shouting at him won’t help.” Jon said, motioning to a guard to hold the mare while he helped his son. “You’ve to be gentle with horses, they’re easily frightened. Especially little ones like this one.”

Gently he stroked the pony’s neck and said “There, see? Speak gently to them and they’ll be gentle with you.”

Helping Robb into the saddle he watched him take a lap around the yard, at a brisk trot. Steady in the saddle and moving easily with the little pony, his son was already an excellent rider. A flash of red hair caught his eye, as Sansa walked into the courtyard. Wearing another grey dress, meant for riding, with a thick cloak. 

“Where are we going Jon?”

“The wolfswood. I have a gift for the both of you there.” Sansa nodded and mounted her mare, while Jon swung into the saddle of the black. Urging the horse forward into a brisk trot, he followed the paw prints Ghost left in the snow. Snow clung to bare branches of tall oaks, hawthorns, beech trees, ash and chestnut trees, while it gathered around the roots of the evergreens and sentinel pines. The sound of hooves was muffled by the layer of soft snow that had settled on the ground. Taking the lead, Jon kept an ear out for trouble, not that he expected to find any this close to the walls of Winterfell.   
Within half an hour, Jon had found where Ghost was leading them. A small clearing with the trunk of a massive oak that sheltered the gift he had for the both of them. They were small, neither of them would have survived the last few days of their journey south without him and Ghost’s protection. What else would a father do, besides protect his children? They had only been gone from them for a handful of hours, but the pups were more than excited to see them. Jon tied his horse to a tree, then helped Sansa down. Robb had already gotten off his pony and was watching the pups with excitement. One grey, nearly black, and one nearly the same color as Sansa’s hair. Bumbling over their own paws the pups came bounding over the snow. 

“Ghost’s mate was with us, until a few days ago. The pups were already weaned but they were weak. When she died, these were the only two to make it. I had hoped to give them to you.”

“Jon.” Sansa breathed, as the russet pup regarded her with golden yellow eyes, before yipping excitedly at her. While the dark grey pup had taken to Robb, much like Greywind had. Jon sat on the oak log, watching his family get to know the bundles of fur that had taken a liking to them. Robb was playing chase with the little grey pup he had already taken to calling Storm. The russet pup was rolling into her belly, asking for attention and Sansa seemed more than happy to give it to her. The sun was setting, and the winds of the North kicked up the snow around their feet, but Jon was loathe to leave the clearing. 

“Jon, Robb! It’s time to head home! Supper should be ready when we get back.” Sansa called to the both of them. Nodding he patted his leg and Ghost followed him easily. 

“Robb, come here a moment son.” Jon asked 

“Yes papa?”

“When I was a boy, I found Ghost. Lord Eddard Stark, your grandfather told me something, and I will tell you. You will train Storm yourself, you will care for him yourself, and if he should die, you will bury him yourself.”

“Yes papa. Mama! What are you going to name your wolf?”

“I think her name is Skye.” Sansa said hesitantly, not sure if she had made the right choice, but the pup yipped and bounced around her feet. Causing Jon to laugh, 

“I think you’re right love.” the setting sun shone red through the bare branches, as they mounted their horses once again. They were headed home.


End file.
